Gift
by patsan
Summary: "How could he love me, Mama, if he didn't even know me?" His voice was barely a whisper, but Mary smiled, for his tone was a little petulant, and she could see the first signs of defiance in his stubborn words. She then knew that he needed to hear the story just as much as she needed to tell it. And so she did. [Future ficlet]


_A few days ago a friend of mine asked me to write a few lines under a gifset she made, and I gladly accepted the challenge. But then, you know, the scene she created was so beautiful, so inspiring, that a few lines became a few paragraphs, and a few paragraphs became a whole new ficlet._

_In a way, that gifset is the scene, and this is its script, and one cannot go without the other, because they're two sides of the same story, one that, for the first time, brought George Crawley to life for me, made him a real character._

_So this is the link to the post: whatifthisstormends,tumblr,com/post/45191777875/but-how-george-looked-down-at-her-neck-and (change ',' with '.'). _

_Go on and like it, or reblog it, give it the love it deserves. And on that note I want to thank **whatifthisstormends **for this wonderful gift. Thank you, my dear :)  
_

_Lastly, I'd like to thank **Eolivet**, who's a darling, and always knows where my troubles lie._

_Enough said. Enjoy!_

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**.**

**Gift**

**. **

Mary knocked on her son's door before opening it slightly, and peeking inside.

"George? Darling, what are you doing still in your room?" Mary inquired when she saw her boy was sitting on his bed, looking smart in his new brown suit, made for him for this special day.

She smiled, a little sad, because it still felt so unfair, even after all these years, but she forced the thought out of her mind as soon as it came, for today every sadness was to be forgotten, at least for a while, for her son's sake if not for her own. As Mary came near his bed, though, that sadness surrounded her again, all of a sudden, for her little man was looking down at the other most important man in her life, his slim fingers caressing the outlines of his father's face in the old picture she'd given to him a few months ago.

She felt tears forming in her eyes, but she blinked them away, and she sat beside him on the bed, Matthew's picture between them.

She paused, then covered George's hand with hers. "Darling…"

George looked up at her, his eyes shiny, but he kept his tears in check, sniffing silently, and smiling at her with the saddest smile she'd ever seen. She could feel the tension in the flexing of his small fingers under hers over the soft duvet, but he didn't talk, so she didn't either. She smiled a little instead, tilting her head slightly, squeezing his hand.

George looked down at their hands for a moment, before taking his hand away from his mother's as his eyes went to his father's face again.

His eyes were still on the old picture when he asked, in a tiny, barely audible voice, "… do you think it was my fault that Papa went away?"

Mary gasped, for she'd expected many things from her son, who was a special little man.

He was caring, and gentle, and his smiles came easily, all traits that reminded her so much of Matthew that sometimes it hurt, deeply, opening anew a wound that still bled, at times, though it mostly just itched. She couldn't disregard its burden, the way it pressed on her soul, nor did she want to, for she'd learned long ago that she really didn't mind, that it was right, that it should be this way.

But George was also silent, for his age, and pensive, and when he gazed off into the distance sometimes, she asked herself if he saw ghosts, for there were many, in this house, and even though she didn't believe in such things, she too could feel their presence from time to time, or better still their absence.

It was in the way they never spoke of some things.

It was in the way her father's shoulders looked hunched some evenings, when he joined the ladies after dinner. It was in the way her mother fell silent, during their afternoons together, and her hand went on her chest almost unconsciously when she thought no one was looking. And Isobel's smiles were a little less frequent these days, slower to curve her lips, and Tom was a bright man who looked older than he was, and Edith was always away.

Mary looked down at her son, at his little hands clutching one another on his lap, at his blond hair that flopped down over his blue eyes, and tears formed into her eyes again, and this time it was impossible to make them go away, so she swallowed hard, and they didn't fall.

She leaned over him then, and again took his hand in hers, and when he looked up at her, eyes big and lost, her other hand went to his cheek, and she caressed it as he started crying. Mary couldn't take it anymore, so she took him in her arms, and hugged him to her, wishing she could protect him from this pain, but she couldn't and she just...

She paused, holding him tightly, trying to work around the tightness of her throat, and when she could finally speak her voice was just a whisper, but she talked urgently into his golden locks, caressing his trembling back, and her tone was sure and steady.

"My darling, don't even think that," she said, moving him so that she could look deeply into his teary eyes. "Who told you such a terrible thing? It isn't true, it's not. It's not your fault."

"But Mama," he cried, "Sybbie said... she said that... that her mother went to heaven because of her, so I thought... I thought-" Tears fell more rapidly, and he hid his small face in the hollow of her neck, as terrible sobs shook his little body.

Mary's breath hitched in her throat, and she tightened her arms around him, feeling her heart break, for her son, for her niece, for herself. _Matthew_, she thought. _Matthew._

Mary pressed her lips together, and even though she couldn't stop the tears from falling this time, she dismissed them, she dismissed her own pain, and focused on her son, as she always did, stroking his darling face with soft fingers, brushing away his tears, kissing his forehead, his eyes, his cheeks.

"It wasn't your fault, Georgie," she said, again, in a low, confident voice. "He was taken from us, but he loved you so very very much, my darling boy. He loved you."

"But how-" George looked down at her neck, and stopped, his small chest rising and falling so fast, his fingers clutching at the soft material of her white blouse, and he raised his eyes to hers, frowning, and she saw they were still filled with tears. He paused, and she waited, giving him all the time he needed. He looked up at her pleadingly then, his lips trembling as he spoke. "How could he love me, Mama, if he didn't even know me?" His voice was barely a whisper, but Mary smiled, for his tone was a little petulant, and she could see the first signs of defiance in his stubborn words. She then knew that he needed to hear the story just as much as she needed to tell it.

And so she did. She looked deeply into his bright blue eyes, so much like his father's that she had to pause sometimes, and she told him everything, and she never looked away, never stopped stroking his back, caressing his face. She told him how his father had held him in his arms for the first time, how his voice had broken with emotion as he'd welcomed him into this world.

.

_"I wonder if he has any idea how much joy he brings with him," he'd said, and his voice had been soft and tender, and his eyes were full of love as he'd looked down at his son, as he'd looked over at her._

_._

She told him how carefully his father had put him back into her arms…

.

_… and his hand had slid slowly over his child, over the skin of her hand, as if he couldn't bear to let go, as if he couldn't bear to be separated from them so soon. _

_She'd looked down at their baby, her heart bursting with love and happiness, and she felt so strong, even though she still was so weak. She'd felt as though she could conquer the world. _

_And then he'd spoken again, looking at her with such certainty, such affection. "You're going to be such a wonderful mother," he'd said, and she'd lifted her eyebrows up at him, because how could he know, really, and how could he see her most secret fear, a barely conscious thought that had plagued her mind for many nights towards the end of her pregnancy, her hands resting lightly on her belly, her eyes staring at the canopy of their bed, as Matthew's warmth and his soft breathing lulled her back to sleep?_

_But he'd known, and he'd slid down and away from the chair, kneeling on the floor near her bed, closer to them, and his breathing had mingled with hers, while his voice caressed her soul as he talked. _

_._

Mary told everything to her beautiful boy, and she explained how happy his father had been to finally meet him, how proud, how loving his eyes were when they looked down at his son while he slept in her arms. And she told him how he'd made his parents smile even more brightly, when he'd stuck his tongue out at them in his sleep.

George's lips twitched at this, and he looked at her with a mix of amusement and indignation in his eyes. "I did not stuck my tongue out at you!"

"But you did, like this," she said, and she showed him her tongue, quickly, and then smiled as her little man giggled in her lap, the last remainder of his tears finally melting away. She hugged him again. "I love you, my darling boy," she said.

"I love you too, Mama," he whispered then, before letting her go, and he was smiling.

She smiled back at him, as George stood on his feet beside her, and took his father's picture from the bed, holding it near his face for a moment, and then going to his chest of drawers.

He put it inside the third drawer, the one most accessible to him, and she walked up behind him, and watched as he looked down at the picture again, kissed the tip of his own fingers, and pressed them to Matthew's cheek on the picture. He turned his head to look up at her, and Mary did the same, her fingers lingering over the picture of the face she'd loved so much for so many years.

"Now go find Sybbie and Grandpapa, we're leaving for the picnic in a few minutes," she said, and George nodded, before he all but ran out of the room, his happy giggles echoing in the big hallway.

Mary looked down at Matthew's picture again, eyes moving over every one of his beloved features, and for a moment she was back to this day six years ago, when he'd taken her chin between his fingers, and he'd kissed her softly at her daring request, their lips pressing together in the most intimate of ways, and there was no hurry, no tension, only a blessed contentment, a tender closeness.

She closed her eyes, remembering his warmth, his touch, the gentle pressure of his lips on her own. She opened them, and the memory faded away, but the peace remained.

She closed the drawer with the picture inside, and walked to the door, making a mental note to speak with Tom about Sybil that afternoon, and as she paused at the doorway for a moment, turning to look at her son's room one last time, she thought that many ghosts inhabited this house, and her own heart as well these days, but some of them were good, quiet reminders of a different life. It'd been such a short time, only a handful of months of glorious bliss, but all had seemed possible, and all had looked perfect, even if it wasn't. They'd been so happy, though, impossibly so, and they'd been together, like they were always meant to be, and she was grateful, so very grateful for it.

She stood still a moment more, watching the golden light of the sun glowing and dancing in front of the big windows, and for an instant she could almost see him, her darling Matthew, smiling brightly at her from across the room, eyes luminous and real and alive with hope, and tenderness, and barely contained excitement. She smiled gently at the memory that was her love, and she thanked him, silently, earnestly, in the secret of her heart, for all that he'd given to her, for all that they had shared.

Then she turned away, and exited the room, the door closing behind her with a soft click.

.

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_I really hope you liked the story, and if you have a moment, I'd LOVE to know what you thought about it. _

_Thank you, and till next time, very soon, with a new chapter of "I Carry Your Heart With Me" :)_


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